Three stars. Rated PG-13, for sci-fi action violence, dramatic intensity and chaste nudity
By Derrick Bang
The tantalizing nature of
identity — of soul — has again
become a hot sci-fi topic, particularly in the wake of HBO’s recent expansion
of Michael Crichton’s Westworld concept.
 |
| After her cyborg body is slightly damaged during a skirmish with nasty assassins, Major (Scarlett Johansson, right) patiently waits while new artificial skin is grafted onto her left arm, listening as Dr. Ouelet (Juliette Binoche) reminds her that, cyber- enhancements notwithstanding, she's not invulnerable. |
Since art so often mirrors life,
it’s tempting to relate the current revival to the rampant insecurity, paranoia
and uncertainty sweeping our nation: the rising doubt over what it truly means
to be “American.”
Be that as it may, this new Western
adaptation of the Japanese Ghost in the
Shell franchise is quite timely, although I can’t help wondering what took
so long. Masamune Shirow’s original manga graphic novel debuted in 1989,
followed quickly by several sequels, a wildly popular 1995 animé adaptation
(and several big-screen follow-ups), and a 2002 animé TV show (again with
several continuation series).
All of them explored and expanded
upon Shirow’s thoughtful observations about social evolution and its
philosophical consequences, and particularly the manner in which rapidly
advancing technology affects our concepts of consciousness and humanity.
Director Rupert Sanders’ new
live-action film covers the same high-falutin’ philosophical territory, but
this ho-hum Jamie Moss/William Wheeler script mostly resurrects a question that
nagged at me, back when Ghost first
materialized: I’ve always wondered to what degree Shirow might have been
influenced by Robert Ludlum.
Because there’s no question that
the core storyline is a cyberpunk spin on Ludlum’s The Bourne Identity, and the many books and films subsequently
spawned by that 1980 novel.
Which explains why — despite this
new film’s dazzling depiction of our mid-21st century future — the
action-packed plot seems so familiar.
To paraphrase a famous song from an equally famous musical, Looks: 10,
originality: 3.
The story takes place in a
Pan-Asian metropolis that feels like a cross between the cityscapes of Blade Runner and Minority Report: opulent high rises and corporate towers jostling for
space alongside blocky apartment complexes whose futuristic lines cannot
conceal the dilapidation that speaks of their overcrowded, working-class
residents.
The most striking visuals are the
massive holographic advertisements that fill every millimeter of available space:
a shrewdly prophetic — and frankly terrifying — depiction of what we could
expect, if the corporate thugs behind our already distracting LED billboards
continue to bully (or bribe) city council members into compliance.
It’s a future where medical
transplants have expanded to include bionic and cybernetic enhancements: where
a new hand has the android strength of James Cameron’s Terminator, and where
replacement eyes can “see” every wavelength from infra red to ultra violet,
with X-ray vision thrown in for good measure.
Even in such surroundings, Major
(Scarlett Johansson) is an anomaly, and the first of her kind: a wholly
artificial cyborg whose only human “remnant” is her brain. As a being thus
impervious to pain — graced with amazing strength, stamina and speed, and even
able to employ a “cloaking” mode that renders her invisible — she is the ideal
super-soldier, and a highly valued member of the counter-cyberterrorist
organization Public Security Section 9.
Major also is the darling of the
massive Hanka Corp., whose smarmy CEO — Peter Ferdinando, as Cutter — envisions
her as the prototype for an elite squad of enforcement soldiers. Hanka
scientist Dr. Ouelet (Juliette Binoche) veers toward the other extreme: She’s a
compassionate humanist who cherishes Major, as something of a proto-daughter,
who in turn cares deeply for the doctor as a surrogate mother.
Sector 9 is overseen by the venerable
Daisuke Aramaki (Takeshi Kitano), who is linked to every member of his team via
a telepathic-styled communications net, and thus is able to monitor
up-to-the-second progress while they’re in the field. Daisuke always speaks in
Japanese, and Kitano’s stoic, rigorously formal façade can’t quite conceal the
wily resourcefulness of a fox. Clearly, he’s not a man to be crossed.
Major’s second-in-command is
Batou (Danish actor Pilou Asbæk), a hulking, tough-as-nails commando with an unexpected soft side,
particularly when it comes to his constant companion. It’s a familiar dynamic,
but Asbæk adds some welcome
emotional gravitas to this high-tech tale: both with his worries about Major,
and concerns about his own humanity slowly receding as inevitable field
injuries prompt successive cyber replacements.
We
don’t get to know any of the other team members very well, which is a shame
(and neglectful scripting). The old-school, fully human Togusa (Chin Han) is
notable for his suspicion of technology, and steadfast refusal to accept any
cyber-enhancements. Ladriya (Danusia Samal) is memorable solely because she’s
the team’s only other woman.
The others — Ishikawa (Lasarus
Ratuere), Saito (Yutaka Izumihara) and Borma (Tawanda Manyimo) — do little
beyond making the team look larger. They remain background blank slates.
The core plot kicks off with a
series of savage attacks against high-ranking Hanka executives: raids that
aren’t mere assassinations, but also involve hijacking their secrets and
memories via the handy-dandy neural interfaces that so many people have in the
back of the neck. These assaults are organized by the hooded Kuze (Michael
Carmen Pitt), who announces responsibility and warns that “all who stand with
Hanka will die.”
The battle lines thus drawn,
Major sees her mission quite clearly. But she’s also plagued by disconcerting
images — flashbacks? — that manifest unexpectedly. Dr. Ouelet dismisses their significance;
each manifestation is easily traced and deleted during routine brain scans. And
yet, they persist...
Point being, of course, that many
things aren’t what they seem, and Major has long taken too much for granted. At
which point, we really slide into
Jason Bourne territory.
Johansson is credible as a
quick-thinking, almost unstoppable warrior: no surprise, since she’s had plenty
of experience as the kick-ass Black Widow, in various Marvel superhero movies.
But our interest in Major derives more from the vulnerability and despair that
Johansson reveals beneath the tough exterior. One of the film’s most intriguing
— and poignant — moments comes when Major visits a brothel, merely to run her
fingers across a woman’s fully human face, while asking what each touch and
sensation feels like.
Her genre cred notwithstanding, considerable
fan hostility greeted the news of Johansson’s starring role, given the iconic
character’s Japanese origins. The filmmakers attempted to justify this decision
by making Hanka and Section 9 multi-national, with characters (and actors)
hailing from France, England, China, New Zealand, Denmark, Singapore and, yes,
Japan, along with numerous other countries.
Fair enough ... initially. But a
third-act revelation regarding Major’s past can’t help calling attention to the
awkwardness of Johansson’s casting, which reinforces the purely commercial
reason behind it. Johansson can “open” a sci-fi action flick here in the States,
a talent (sadly) not shared even by popular Japanese action actresses such as
Rinko Kikuchi (Pacific Rim).
Pitt oozes sinister menace as the
lethal Kuze, a bestial rage machine with no apparent regard for human life. But
his behavior shifts when in close proximity to Major, and Pitt gives this
duality a fascinating touch: Kuze becomes childlike and oddly fragile.
The film’s stunning look comes
courtesy of visual effects wizards Fiona Campbell Westgate and Guillaume
Rocheron, with a significant real-world boost from production designer Jan
Roelfs. This is, once again, world-building on a truly awesome scale. Editors
Billy Rich and Neil Smith keep the pacing taut, and Jess Hall’s frequently
gritty cinematography gives the many late-night tableaus the Blade Runner look. They got a lot on the
screen, given the film’s comparatively modest $110 million budget.
On the other hand, Lorne Balfe
and Clint Mansell’s thunderously loud score is obnoxious, particularly with its
frequent use of low-end synth elements that rattle our teeth.
One other problem is more
serious, and irritatingly common with stories of this nature: Major is only as
powerful, or as vulnerable, as she needs to be from one moment to the next. The
film opens with her solo assault against multiple assassins invading a formal
restaurant, in their pursuit of a Hanka exec: a melee that makes her seem
lightning-fast, ferociously lethal, and all but invulnerable.
And yet a few scenes later, she’s
easily overcome and handcuffed to a pole by just two guys, seemingly helpless
against their giggling sadism. That’s just sloppy. And stupid.
Sanders’ handling of this
live-action Ghost in the Shell tries
hard to hit all the proper notes, blending the all-stops-out action with the essential
explorations of humanity and soul; Major’s encounter with a figure from her
(human) past is particularly poignant. But the balance doesn’t feel right, and
the core story’s familiarity works against it, as does the script’s failure to
flesh out more of the supporting roles.
By trying to be all things to all
potential viewers — seven production
companies (!) — this Ghost has lost
the core Japanese spirit that gave Shirow’s original manga storyline much of
its power. That’s pretty ironic, given the franchise’s focus on identity.
Factor all that with the
aforementioned fan antipathy, and I’m not sure the film will live up to
Paramount and DreamWorks’ high expectations. I certainly was disappointed.
No comments:
Post a Comment